Expect The Unexpected
by MR. CR0CKER
Summary: Crocker gets completely fed up with his mother and the unexpected happens. Final chapter up.
1. Movin' Out

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter One-- "Movin' Out"  
  
Ah, the liberating sound of the final bell--music to the ears of bored students and exhausted teachers alike--hailed the arrival of three o'clock. What a beautiful sound and time of day! The children hurriedly rushed out of classroom 44, never once looking back and why should they? The only thing that remained in the room was their crazy, fairy-obsessed 5th grade school teacher and he was hardly worth a glance at any time of the day, let alone three o'clock.  
  
Another long day of teaching, hunting fairies, and enduring incessant mockery has left the miserable Mr. Crocker of Dimmsdale Elementary feeling more miserable than he was when the day started, as well as physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. All he wanted now was to go home to the solitude of his room, lock out the world in which he had no place, and crash. Unfortunately, with his current living conditions, such a desire would most likely remain only a fantasy.  
  
The minute he walked in the door of his house half an hour later, his mother was standing there, tapping her foot impatiently, arms folded across her chest as she glared up at her son over the rims of her glasses. Crocker could sense an argument brewing right away.  
  
"All right," he sighed after a moment's hesitation, "What'd I do now?"  
  
"How long has it been since you cleaned your room, Denzel?" his mother demanded in an icy tone.  
  
Crocker cringed inwardly. He knew all too well the state his room was in--a state of total chaos. He just couldn't find time to straighten it up. There was never enough time to do anything. He had to spend the majority of his waking hours in the school and the few hours remaining afterward, he was determined to devote to his research. That was his routine and he wasn't about to change it simply to clean his room.  
  
"I don't know how long it's been," he replied crossly, slinking past his mother.  
  
"Don't you walk away from me, Denzel Crocker," his mother warned him, "You look at me right now, young man. You never do anything I ask of you and I'm sick of your defiance."  
  
"I never do anything you ask of me?!" Crocker exploded, suddenly boiling with anger as he snapped around to face his mother, "What about modeling your stupid dresses? I despise doing it, but I'm at your disposal all the time, am I not?"  
  
"You have yet to model a dress for me without grumbling and complaining," Mrs. Crocker retorted, then held up her latest gaudy garb, "Speaking of which, will you try this on for me?"  
  
"Mother!" Crocker barked, "That is the ugliest, sorriest excuse for clothing I have ever had the displeasure of looking at! I wouldn't be caught dead in it!"  
  
"See? There you go again!" his mother was quick to point out his protest.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"You're complaining! Just like you always do!"  
  
"That was a setup!" Crocker hissed venomously, "You were planning to do that all along!"  
  
"So will you try it on?" she asked hopefully, ignoring his accusations.  
  
"Get a life!" Crocker snapped shortly.  
  
"Why, I never!"  
  
"You never will either," Crocker continued, "Because I'm moving out!"  
  
That was enough to end the argument then and there. Mrs. Crocker was so stunned by her son's declaration of independence that she unconsciously dropped the dress on the floor, her mouth hanging open in shock.  
  
Without looking back, Crocker tromped up to his room, intent on following through with his threat. In a short amount of time, he had his most important possessions boxed up and loaded into his van. He paused to survey the now empty room with the exception of the bed and the dresser in the corner.  
  
"She can't say it isn't clean now," he muttered, turning on his heel, leaving the room, and slamming the door behind him. 


	2. Then What

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Two-- "Then What"  
  
Crocker hadn't really planned where he would go after leaving his mother and the house he'd lived in since he was a child, but it didn't take him long to come up with an idea. Since living out of his van did not appeal to him in any way and he didn't favor the thought of committing himself to the mental institution simply for room and board, he went for the next best thing--the school. He practically lived there anyway.  
  
Heaven only knew why anyone would trust him with a key to the school, but he had one and he was grateful he did. After unlocking the building and turning on the lights in his classroom, he took several trips back and forth, transporting his belongings from his van to the classroom--his computer, his clothing, and, of course, his fairy-tracking gadgets. He decided the desk drawers could compensate a dresser and there was plenty of room on the desktop for his computer. The fairy-detecting gizmos would be stored in the janitor's closet with the rest of his contraptions.  
  
"Just like home," Crocker sighed, surveying his new residence, "Minus my nagging mother."  
  
Still exhausted from the earlier happenings and now even more so since the argument with his mother, Crocker found solace--of all places--under his desk. Crunching his gaunt and gangly frame into the small, cramped space, he somehow managed to fall asleep in a less than comfortable position, where he stayed until morning.  
  
---------------  
  
The bell rang loudly the next morning and was accompanied by the thundering feet of stampeding children hurrying to their classes. The racket in the hall was enough to jolt Crocker out of a dead sleep. He dragged himself out from under his desk--after cracking his head once or twice under there--just as his first student, Timmy Turner, walked into the room.  
  
Timmy gave Crocker a questioning look, but said nothing at first, merely watching his unpredictable teacher--unkempt and stiff--crawl out from under the desk. Finally, Timmy mustered the courage to say something.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Crocker," he smiled, trying to be friendly and stay on Crocker's seldom-seen mellow side, "Uh...what were you doing under your desk?"  
  
"Sleeping," Crocker groaned, cracking his back as he stood up, "What's it to you?"  
  
"Um...isn't that what beds are for?" Timmy inquired, unintentionally coming across as a smart-aleck.  
  
"Only if you have one," Crocker snapped in response, getting irritated.  
  
Timmy sensed Crocker's temper getting shorter and decided to quit while he was ahead. He retreated to his desk as the rest of the class ambled into the room. Chester and AJ took their seats on either side of Timmy.  
  
"Dude! What's up with Crocker?" Chester asked quietly, "He looks like he spent the night under a desk or something."  
  
"He did," Timmy muttered in response, "But don't ask me why. I didn't get that far when I talked to him."  
  
The room fell silent as Crocker, still a mess in appearance, made his way to the chalkboard. He picked up a piece of chalk and stood poised to write something, but he never got that far. He sort of spaced out, staring distantly as sleep-deprived people often do when they are struggling to function properly on a fraction of rest.  
  
"I wonder how long this stupor will last," AJ muttered to his two companions.  
  
"Oh, get out some pencils and paper and...write an essay," Crocker sighed at last, dropping the chalk back in the tray, "I don't care what it's about."  
  
"Will it be graded?" Chester asked.  
  
"Yes...no...maybe...I don't know," Crocker replied, sinking into his desk chair as though a weight of 16 tons was pulling him down.  
  
"Cool," Chester grinned, "I could get used to the indecisive, bedraggled, passive Crocker."  
  
It seemed all the students felt that way as it didn't take them long to realize Crocker had no fighting spirit in him today. Timmy felt a sense of relief as well, but he couldn't help but wonder what was going on with his usually crazed, hyperactive, and just plain scary teacher. 


	3. Hold Back Tomorrow

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Three-- "Hold Back Tomorrow"  
  
After three days of the same monotony, Crocker was as predictable as day and night. He was too exhausted to even attempt to change gears, let alone concern himself with whether Timmy Turner had fairies or not. His students were grateful for the consistency, but it wasn't long before they started taking advantage of it.  
  
Wednesday morning came and classroom 44 was a complete disaster area. Crocker was sitting at his desk with bloodshot eyes and looking as unkempt as ever, shakily trying to down two aspirin when Principal Waxelplax walked in to find out what was causing all the commotion.  
  
"Mr. Crocker!" she cried, ducking as a paper airplane nearly put her eye out, "What on earth is going on in here? Why aren't you controlling your students?"  
  
"Huh? What?" Crocker looked up at her, blinking first one eye, then the other, his complexion more pallid than usual, "Oh. Uh...children. Settle down. Ugh..."  
  
He couldn't even muster a shout, so his half-hearted attempt at regaining some structure went unheard by the shouting students who couldn't care less what he said anyway even if they had heard him.  
  
"What is wrong with you?" Waxelplax asked, physically shaking Crocker's shoulders in an attempt to find some sign of vitality in him, "Oh, never mind. I don't think I care to know. Anyway, you need to take the rest of the day off. You look terrible and--"  
  
"He always looks terrible!" Francis guffawed, rudely interrupting the principal.  
  
"Well...he looks more terrible than usual," Waxelplax retorted shortly, dragging Crocker to his feet and shoving him out the door as gently as she could, "Now get out of here. Lower your caffeine intake and get some sleep."  
  
Crocker wandered aimlessly down the hall, pausing at the drinking fountain to stick his face in the spray of cold water. That woke him up somewhat and he continued his aimless wandering which eventually led him outside. He successfully located his van in the parking lot and drove at a snail's pace into town.  
  
---------------  
  
Timmy came home from school later that day, relieved that the substitute teacher didn't hand out any homework. Of course, no one had had any homework since Crocker had taken his downward spiral into monotony.  
  
"Family meeting!" Mrs. Turner announced as Timmy walked in the door.  
  
Timmy groaned and shrugged off his pink backpack--which grunted upon hitting the floor--and he took a seat on the couch beside his father.  
  
"I have a special announcement to make," Mrs. Turner continued in her usual bubbly tone of voice, "We're going to be sharing our home with a very special guest for a while, starting tomorrow!"  
  
"It better not be the Dinkleburgs," Mr. Turner growled peevishly.  
  
"Who is it, Mom?" Timmy asked, having a feeling of excitement and dread all at once. On the one hand, it could be someone cool and famous, like Chip Skylark, and on the other hand...  
  
"Why, it's your teacher, Timmy," Mrs. Turner smiled, "Mr. Crocker. He rear-ended the car with his van in the grocery store parking lot and we got to talking. He said he was living at the school because he can't afford to pay rent for two places--one being his mother's--and I thought that was just pitiful, so I invited him to come and live with us."  
  
"What?! But I--you can't--but he--" Timmy stammered, shocked senseless by this devastating news.  
  
"Oh, he's so thrilled, he's speechless!" Mrs. Turner gushed happily, misinterpreting Timmy's stutters.  
  
"She still digs your teacher?!" Mr. Turner yelped, "I can't believe it! I'm going to lose my wife to someone more intelligent than me!"  
  
"That's debatable," Timmy muttered to his pink backpack and green lunchbox, insinuating that Crocker wasn't much brighter than Mr. Turner as he tromped up to his room.  
  
"What's wrong, Sweetie?" Wanda asked, poofing into fairy form as soon as they reached Timmy's room and the door was shut.  
  
"Didn't you hear?" Timmy groaned, flinging himself across his bed, "Mom ran into Crocker in the grocery store parking lot, found out about his current predicament, and invited him to come and stay with us!"  
  
"Your mom didn't run into him," Cosmo piped up, obviously having heard the conversation, "He ran into your mom. Remember? She said he rear-ended the car, not vise versa."  
  
"Whatever," Timmy grumbled, "The point is, Crocker is going to be in this house for an unknown but otherwise extended period of time and that puts us three in danger. What are we going to do? Tomorrow could spell doom for all of us!"  
  
"I didn't know tomorrow could spell," Cosmo commented, completely clueless, "That's scary!"  
  
"Not half as scary as life is going to be when Crocker arrives." 


	4. Pressure

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Four-- "Pressure"  
  
When school let out the next day, Timmy wanted nothing more than to get home as fast as possible so he could have time to hide any evidence of fairies before Crocker moved in. This was going to be disastrous.  
  
Unfortunately for Timmy, it didn't take Crocker long to pack up his belongings and throw them into his van. He arrived at the Turner house in exactly one half hour.  
  
"Timmy, your teacher is here," Mrs. Turner called as the ominous black van pulled up in the driveway, countless satellites and radars beeping on its roof, "Hurry and get the door!"  
  
Timmy begrudgingly answered the door to find Crocker standing on the stoop, fairy-tracking device in hand. He still looked like a wreck, but apparently he was functioning just enough to know he was at the house of a child suspected to have fairy godparents.  
  
"Hi, Mr. Crocker," Timmy forced an awkward smile, trying to be friendly, "Uh...won't you come in?"  
  
"Hello, Turner," Crocker replied coldly, slinking into the house with all the coordination of a sleep-deprived person..  
  
"Welcome to our humble home, Mr. Crocker," Mrs. Turner smiled warmly, "It's a pleasure to share it with you."  
  
"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Crocker replied, not really thinking about what he was saying, "This will give me the perfect opportunity to hunt for...FAIRIES!!! Gah--I mean, recollect myself and get back on my feet, of course."  
  
---------------  
  
Timmy despised the arrangements that were never discussed with him. That night, he found out he would be sharing his room with Mr. Crocker. That was the last thing he had expected, but at least he didn't have to forfeit his own bed. Crocker didn't seem to have a problem sleeping on the floor.  
  
"It's usually where I end up at home anyway," he told Mrs. Turner, implying that he had an uncanny habit of falling out of bed. Timmy could easily guess why.  
  
"If he flings himself around in fairy spasms in his sleep as much as he does when he's awake, no wonder he winds up on the floor," Timmy muttered to Cosmo and Wanda--disguised as goldfish in their bowl while Timmy brushed his teeth.  
  
"Talking to your fairy god-fish, Turner?" Crocker asked, eavesdropping outside the bathroom door.  
  
"Do you mind?" Timmy asked, flinging the door open angrily and nearly causing Crocker to fall on top of him as he had been leaning against the door, listening, "A little privacy, please?"  
  
"Do you always take your 'pet fish' in the bathroom with you?" Crocker inquired, making quotation marks with his fingers as he said "pet fish".  
  
"Yes," Timmy replied, thinking fast, "I get lonely easily. They keep me company in here. The bathroom is...uh...a scary place when I'm in it alone."  
  
Crocker's expression said he didn't buy a word of it, but Timmy didn't waver. He knew he would have to work overtime outsmarting his suspicious teacher now that he was sharing his home with him. He now had to view Crocker as a full-time fixture in his life. He could only hope it wouldn't be a permanent arrangement.  
  
When Timmy finally returned to his room, Crocker was nowhere to be seen. He didn't have a good feeling about this though. If Crocker had to be in his house, Timmy wanted to know his whereabouts at all times.  
  
"Where'd he go?" he whispered to his goldfish, "I don't like this you guys. I think--Aaaahhh!"  
  
Timmy jumped back three feet when a scrawny arm reached out from under his bed, soon to be followed by Crocker's upper body. Apparently, Crocker had been snooping through the various items under Timmy's bed.  
  
"Hello, Turner," Crocker groaned, dragging himself out and standing upright, his hunched back cracking as he did so.  
  
"Why are you so attracted to cramped spaces?" Timmy asked, irritated.  
  
"I know there are fairies in this house," Crocker hissed, "I whiffed them once before and I'm whiffing them now. Where are they, Turner?!"  
  
"I...don't...have...fairies!" Timmy shouted, seething between words, "Now, it's past my bedtime. I have school tomorrow. I would like to get some sleep and--"  
  
"You should do the same, Mr. Crocker," Mrs. Turner interrupted, appearing in the doorway and throwing five or six blankets at Crocker, bowling him over, "Here are some extra blankets. Oh, and here's an extra pillow too."  
  
Crocker recovered himself just in time to get hit full in the face by the airborne pillow and knocked off his feet for the second time in less than thirty seconds.  
  
"Too bad that wasn't enough to knock him into next week and out of my house," Timmy muttered. 


	5. Prayin' For Daylight

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Five-- "Prayin' For Daylight"  
  
Timmy was still wide awake and slowly losing his sanity long after midnight. When Crocker finally dropped off, the bad dream became an all-out nightmare. The psychotic teacher repeatedly had spasms in his sleep, twitching, shouting about fairies, and kicking Timmy's bed hard enough to cause it to bounce up off the floor.  
  
"This is driving me nuts!" Timmy hissed, finding Cosmo and Wanda unable to sleep as well, "I've got to get him out of my room or we're never going to get any sleep!"  
  
"But how?" Wanda asked, cringing as Crocker gave way to screaming about fairies again.  
  
"I've got it!" Timmy replied after giving the matter some thought, "I wish Crocker was allergic to...hmm...dust! And I wish there was tons of dust in my room!"  
  
"You've got it!" Cosmo grinned, granting Timmy's wish and filling his room with...  
  
"Fairy dust?!" Timmy cried, "Are you nuts?! I meant house dust, you idiot!"  
  
"Well, what's wrong with fairy dust?" Cosmo challenged.  
  
"Duh! Crocker is right there!" Timmy pointed out, "If he whiffs something like fairy dust, that will just fuel his stupid suspicions! Get rid of it! I want house dust! Loads of it!"  
  
Wanda quickly corrected Cosmo's foolishness and soon Timmy's room was like the inside of a full vacuum cleaner bag and Crocker, suddenly afflicted with dust allergies, coughed and sneezed himself out of an almost dead sleep.  
  
"Gah! Can't breathe!" he choked, staggering to his feet and running over Timmy and his bed to get to the window--which he promptly flung open--and began gasping for fresh air.  
  
"Are you okay, Mr. Crocker?" Timmy asked with a slight smirk.  
  
"No!" Crocker gasped in response, "Your room is a giant dust bowl! I'm being choked by your polluted air!"  
  
"What on earth is going on in here?" Mr. Turner bellowed, breaking down Timmy's door with his parental battering ram.  
  
"Timmy, what's all the commotion?" Mrs. Turner asked, joining her husband in the doorway. Her hair sported countless curlers and she wore some sort of hideous green slop on her face.  
  
Crocker turned around, saw her appearance and...it scared the living daylights out of him. He shrieked and jumped back and--unfortunately for him--fell out the open window.  
  
"Mr. Crocker!" Timmy cried. He hadn't planned for things to go that far.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, Timmy," Mr. Turner smiled, "Your mother's thorn-infested rose bushes will break his fall."  
  
By the time the three of them got downstairs, Crocker came in the door, spitting rose petals and covered in thorns from head to foot. He even had some stuck between his teeth.  
  
"Maybe spending the night upstairs isn't such a safe idea," Mrs. Turner said uncertainly, glancing at her husband, "We can't have you falling out of windows and whatnot, Mr. Crocker."  
  
"I'll go dig out the roll-away bed," Mr. Turner sighed, reading his wife's unspoken request.  
  
A half hour, fifty-some-odd thorns, and one roll-away bed later, everyone was finally able to go back to sleep. Timmy quickly wished all the dust out of his room and he and Cosmo and Wanda were able to fall asleep for the first time that night. However, at roughly three o'clock in the morning, the trio was awakened by Crocker pitching fits in his sleep--again.  
  
Timmy rolled his eyes in annoyance then, realizing he was thirsty, he got up and tip-toed downstairs to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Cosmo and Wanda silently followed. On the way back from the kitchen, passing through the living room, Timmy paused to watch his crazy teacher convulse in uncontrolled spasms. It was really getting on his nerves.  
  
"I wish the bed would fold up on him."  
  
"Gah!"  
  
It seemed as though Crocker would spend the rest of the night in yet another cramped and uncomfortable position once again. 


	6. My Life

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.  
  
Chapter Six-- "My Life"  
  
The next day, when Crocker finally managed to extricate himself from the folded-up roll-away bed, he looked like he could have used a good ironing. Good thing he was up before anyone else. At least he could stake his claim on the bathroom before someone saw his horribly haggard appearance.  
  
"There's only one logical explanation for last night's events," he muttered to himself after steaming up the bathroom and using all the hot water, "The allergy attack, the unholy amount of dust, the spontaneous folding up of that stupid bed--it was all the work of...FAIRY GODPARENTS!!!"  
  
He was on to Timmy's game. There was no other way the things that had happened the previous night happened by pure chance. Feeling his suspicions confirmed, he knew he had a major job to do in order to prove his beliefs. He would have to watch for Timmy Turner to slip up and make a big mistake.  
  
---------------  
  
"I'm going to miss the bus!" Timmy cried, rushing down the stairs as he realized he had overslept due to a certain individual's mental problems and weird sleeping habits.  
  
"What about the bus?" Mr. Crocker asked kindly...too kindly, "Why not ride in to school with me?"  
  
"What?!" Timmy asked incredulously as Crocker stood blocking his path to the door, "I, uh..."  
  
"Oh, how nice of you, Mr. Crocker," Mrs. Turner smiled, "But are you sure it's not too much trouble? I know children can be distracting while you're driving."  
  
"Nonsense!" Crocker replied, putting on a convincing act for Timmy's naive mother, "It's no trouble at all, I assure you. It would be my pleasure."  
  
"Yeah, I'll bet it would," Timmy grumbled under his breath.  
  
Timmy seemed to be the only one to catch the look on Crocker's face that gave it away that he was up to something. He knew it was a ploy to watch for evidence of fairies and he cringed inwardly when he realized his mother expected him to at least humor Crocker.  
  
The ride into the school was one of the most tense car rides Timmy had ever survived. Of course, he was uptight in knowing that this was Crocker's way of monitoring him for fairy activity, but Crocker's driving skills certainly didn't help ease his nerves.  
  
"You're going to hit the crossing guard!" Timmy screamed, ducking down in the front passenger's seat as Crocker was barreling up to an intersection at an unholy speed.  
  
"No, I'm not," Crocker assured him, rolling down the window and sticking his head out to scream, "Out of my way!"  
  
The crossing guard quickly dove to the curb to avoid being run over by the black van he knew all too well would stop for nothing short of a thick brick wall and even that in itself was debatable.  
  
"Good grief!" Timmy gasped, sitting up cautiously and glaring at his teacher, "How in the world did you ever get a license to drive?"  
  
"It wasn't easy," Crocker replied, turning into the school parking lot on two wheels and slamming the van into his usual parking space. He stopped just short of hitting the chain-link fence.  
  
Timmy had to force himself to loosen his grip on the seat as he shakily unbuckled his seat belt and exited the van. His legs felt like Jell-O as he stumbled up the steps of the school and headed for his class, well aware of Crocker breathing down his neck.  
  
Crocker didn't back off to just subtly stalking Timmy until they were in the classroom. He then had to put aside his fairy-hunting duties and force himself to act like a teacher...or something close to it anyway. At least a slight resemblance.  
  
"Well, class," he said, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a stack of papers, "I graded your essays yesterday in my spare time, so I will be handing them back today."  
  
He began slinking up and down the rows of desks, passing out papers and, sadly, not one of his students got anything higher than an F--sad, but not at all surprising.  
  
"I can't believe he gave me an F on this elaborately written essay about how smart I am!" AJ cried, sobbing over the embarrassing grade, "I spent hours toiling over this!"  
  
"Well, no wonder he gave you an F," Chester scoffed, "Who wants to read a written brag? Now my essay was worthy of an A+!"  
  
"You wrote an essay on nose goblins?" AJ asked, quirking a brow as he skimmed the paper.  
  
"He said the essay could be about anything."  
  
"I'll bet he didn't even read any of these," Elmer whined, "He just went through the whole stack with his evil red marker and--"  
  
"Where'd you get that inside information?" Crocker snapped.  
  
Elmer fell silent, paralyzed with fear. Crocker saw no point in intimidating him further at the moment, so he handed out the last of the papers and moved back to his desk at the front of the class.  
  
Timmy remained silent as he did not want to provoke Crocker in any way. His future was already in danger with the nutcase living in his house. He knew he had to do whatever it would take to avoid confrontations with him. Unfortunately, Crocker was preparing to zero in on him at any moment.  
  
"Crocker!" a familiar shout preceded the entrance of Principal Waxelplax. She looked less than pleased as she motioned Crocker over with her index finger.  
  
Crocker warily followed her out into the hall, wondering what he could be in trouble for this time. He hadn't destroyed any school property...yet. Why did she seem so irritated with him?  
  
"Your mother has called me exactly sixteen times this morning," Waxelplax informed him impatiently, "She's worried sick about you because you haven't called her. She has no clue where you're staying and it's driving her crazy."  
  
"So?" Crocker shrugged nonchalantly as he obviously couldn't care less, "What do you want me to do about it?"  
  
"Call her!" Waxelplax barked in response, "For Pete's sake, she's your mother! Let her know where you're staying--whatever it takes to ease her nerves and get her off my back! But you're craziness is driving her crazy and in turn it's driving me crazy!"  
  
"An excellent example of a chain reaction," Crocker mused, "I could use this instance to illustrate today's physics lesson--"  
  
"Chain reaction?!" Waxelplax cried, "It's an epidemic! If it keeps up, I'm calling the institution on you!"  
  
Crocker did not like the sound of that. The mental institution is the last place he cared to visit any time soon. He wouldn't care if he never saw that place or a single orderly ever again. Caught between a rock and a hard place, he realized he would have to confront his mother before things got too out of hand. 


	7. Angry Young Man

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Seven-- "Angry Young Man"  
  
"You're not leaving this room until you pick up that phone and call your poor mother," Waxelplax told Crocker as he sat beside her desk, eyeing the telephone apprehensively, "And if she beats you to getting on the line, you are going to pick it up, got it?"  
  
Crocker didn't answer. He reached out a hand to take the phone, but paused, as if afraid it would morph into a snake and bite him. Waxelplax tapped her foot impatiently. If looks could kill, Crocker would probably be full of holes and pronounced dead on the scene. Naturally, he made it a point to avoid eye contact. Meanwhile, back in his classroom...  
  
"I wonder what's keeping Crocker," AJ mused.  
  
"Maybe the principal wiped the floor with him," Chester chuckled at the mental picture.  
  
"Yeah, I wish," Timmy growled angrily, "At least the rest of you only have to put up with him until school lets out. I have to live with him!"  
  
"Ooh! I sense some juicy gossip here!" Veronica squealed, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, "What's the scoop? Crocker is living in your house, Timmy Turner?"  
  
"Yes," Timmy muttered.  
  
"Whoa! You'd better watch out, Timmy," Chester cautioned, "Or Crocker's insanity and meanness will rub off on you!"  
  
"Chester, this is serious," AJ replied, pitying their friend.  
  
"Well, so am I!" Chester hissed, "Crocker could brainwash Timmy and make him one of his evil, crazy cronies!"  
  
"You watch too much TV, man," AJ sighed, shaking his head at Chester's ridiculous ideas.  
  
"Ugh! That is so totally unpopular," Trixie said, joining Veronica, "It could completely destroy your cool reputation--if you had one, that is."  
  
Timmy frowned as the two girls returned to their seats, giggling smugly. Now the whole class was aware of his awful predicament--a fact that made him want to get revenge on his teacher all the more...or at least get him out of his house.  
  
---------------  
  
An hour later, Crocker was still staring apprehensively at the phone. Waxelplax was growing more impatient by the second and he could sense it. He had to stall.  
  
"I'm going to do it," he assured her nervously, "Just give me a minute."  
  
"You've had sixty-plus," Waxelplax informed him, glancing at her watch.  
  
Crocker groaned as he realized Waxelplax was going to be as relentless in keeping him there as he was in refusing to touch that phone.   
  
"Ugh! I have to visit the restroom," Waxelplax sighed at last, "You stay here and I expect you to have called your mother by the time I come back."  
  
"You know, now that you mention it, I think I need to visit the restroom as well," Crocker replied, seizing the opportunity to weasel his way out as he got to his feet, "Why don't we just meet each other back here in ten minutes?"  
  
"I don't think so, Mr. Crocker," Waxelplax answered, putting a hand to his chest and forcing him back down into the chair, "My translation of your 'meeting back here in ten minutes' says I won't be able to find you again if I permit you to leave this room. You're staying until you call her."  
  
Of course, the instant the principal left the room, Crocker made his escape attempt. Unfortunately for him, he was so busy nervously looking over his shoulder on his way down the hall that he walked right into Waxelplax as she was exiting the girls' room.  
  
"Going somewhere, Mr. Crocker?" she asked, eyeing him skeptically.  
  
"I was...just on my way back to your office," Crocker chuckled nervously, turning on his heel and bolting back to the place from which he came.  
  
After some coaxing--which sounded more like threats--Waxelplax finally convinced Crocker to pick up the phone and call his mother. She answered on the first ring...much to Crocker's dismay.  
  
"Oh, Denzel!" she gushed, "Where are you? You've had mommy worried sick!"  
  
"I'm at school, Mother," Crocker replied in a monotonous tone, sounding anything but happy, "No need to worry. Everything is fine."  
  
"You're at the school? Perfect!" his mother babbled, "Mommy will be right over to pick you up and bring you home."  
  
"No!" Crocker barked, then regained his composure, speaking calmly once again, "I mean--Mother, I'm fine. I have my van. You don't need to pick me up."  
  
"Don't be silly, Denzel," she answered giddily, "I know you won't come home of your own accord, so that's why I'm coming to get you."  
  
"You can't force me to come home!" Crocker snapped, abandoning self-control and giving way to yelling, "I'm an adult, remember?"  
  
"An adult incapable of living on his own," his mother reminded him, "The mental institution said so."  
  
"I don't care if they say toe jam tastes good and the moon is made of cheese!" Crocker exploded, "Fairies are real and I'm not--I repeat--I am not coming home!"  
  
With that said, he slammed the phone down and stomped out of the office, leaving a stunned and perplexed principal behind while on the other end of the line, his mother stared at the dead phone in her hand.  
  
"Well, I never!" 


	8. Against All Odds

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Eight-- "Against All Odds"  
  
Crocker seemed more paranoid than usual as he resumed teaching once again. He kept pacing over to the door, sticking his head out, checking the hall, then pacing in front of the chalkboard for a few moments--only to repeat everything in a very distinct pattern.  
  
"What's eating him?" Chester muttered to Timmy.  
  
"Beats me," Timmy shrugged, "But maybe it'll eat him out of my house and home...whatever it is."  
  
"Wishful thinking, Sweetie?" Wanda--disguised as an eraser--asked.  
  
"Why don't you just wish Crocker away, Timmy?" Cosmo--disguised as a green pencil--piped up.  
  
"I can't do that, Cosmo," Timmy replied, "It would be too obvious and it would only feed his suspicions. No. I have to get rid of him without magic. It's the only safe way to go."  
  
Crocker's relief could never be adequately expressed with words when the sound of the final bell met his anxious ears. The sooner he got out of the school, the better. His mother knew where he worked, but she had no clue where he was living. He would be in the safe zone as soon as he returned to Timmy's house.  
  
"Well, there's the bell, children," he blurted, speaking more rapidly than usual, "Time for everyone to leave! Go! Run down the halls screaming with joy and trample anyone who stands in your way!"  
  
Timmy jumped up to follow the rest of the class, but Crocker reached out and snagged the back of his shirt in a white-knuckled fist.  
  
"Not you," he hissed, "You have to ride home with me. I don't trust you, Turner. If my mother shows up and interrogates you on my whereabouts, you'll crack without thinking twice."  
  
Timmy found it wiser to just go along with it rather than argue. Crocker wasn't someone to fight with when he was calm, so Timmy would never dream of arguing with him when he was as frantic as he was then and there. He calmly followed Crocker out to his van, where he got another terrifying ride. He was more than grateful when the demented teacher screeched to a stop in the driveway. Nauseated by Crocker's horrible driving, Timmy staggered into his house with the lunatic trailing behind.  
  
"Ugh! What's that smell?" Timmy gagged, plugging his nose as some disgusting scent greeted his nose when he walked in the door.  
  
"Fairies!" Crocker screamed impulsively.  
  
"No. The bathroom," Mrs. Turner replied, sporting a clothespin on her nose, "Your father polished off the last of the leftover baked beans for lunch this afternoon, Timmy. Went right through him."  
  
"Gah! What'd he do?" Crocker wretches, drawing his shirt collar up over his nose, "Set off a nuclear bomb in there?"  
  
"Might as well have," Timmy coughed, fanning the air with his hand, "Blech! I think I'm going to skip over to AJ's house to do my homework."  
  
A few minutes later, Timmy set out for AJ's house. He couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched. Sure enough, he was. Timmy had a sneaking suspicion as to who was stalking him and it was starting to get on his nerves. Crocker--having no more desire to stay in the house amid the raunchy stench than Timmy did--was trailing his student, fairy detector in hand.   
  
"I don't know which is worse," he whispered to Cosmo and Wanda--disguised as pink and green notebooks, "Having Tootie stalking me so she can swoon, or having Mr. Crocker stalking me so he can prove his theory."  
  
"I'd say Crocker's presence is more of a threat," Wanda replied, "After all, if he succeeds in proving that you have fairy godparents, he could ruin your life forever. Tootie is pretty harmless in comparison."  
  
By that time, Crocker was following so closely behind him, it was easy to distinguish the teacher's creepy footsteps from Timmy's own. Finally, the boy had had enough. He spun around to face Crocker.  
  
"Why are you following me, Mr. Crocker?" he demanded, already knowing what the answer to that question would be.  
  
"So I can monitor the activity of your...FAIRY GODPARENTS!!!" Crocker replied openly--seeing no reason in keeping his motives sub-rosa at the time--succumbing to a trademark spasm on the last two words of his statement.  
  
"I figured as much," Timmy grumbled under his breath, then raised his voice to normal volume, "Why don't you give it a rest? I don't have fairy godparents!"  
  
"What kind of fool do you take me for, Turner?"  
  
"How many kinds are there?" Timmy asked with a smirk.  
  
"Don't change the subject!" Crocker hissed, jabbing a finger in Timmy's chest with every intention of inflicting pain as he did so, "I know lies when I hear them."  
  
"You should," Timmy retorted, "You're one of the biggest liars I know."  
  
"Thank you," Crocker lightened up, seemingly proud of his reputation, "I worked hard for that title."  
  
"Yeah, right," Timmy scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Crocker, you may already know I have a load of homework to do and friends to do it with."  
  
Crocker narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at the retreating boy, but he didn't follow. He needed some time alone to come up with a successful plan to capture Timmy's fairies.   
  
---------------  
  
"I've got to get him out of my house," Timmy said to Chester and AJ as they went over their homework together, "He's driving me crazy!"  
  
"You know what they say," AJ replied, "Misery loves company."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chester asked, "And who is 'they'?"  
  
"It means that Crocker is a miserable human being afflicted with misery and he finds joy in inflicting misery on others," AJ explained, "He's also the perfect example of a bully, now that I think about it. He likes to pick on people smaller and weaker than himself."  
  
"So who is 'they'?" Chester repeated.  
  
"Oh. I'm not sure who originally said it," AJ replied, "All I know is that it makes sense and it applies to this situation."  
  
"Okay, you guys," Timmy interrupted, "Can you help me figure out a sure-fire way to get rid of him?"  
  
"You could call the asylum," AJ suggested, "That's what the principal does when he gets too unruly."  
  
"Or you could turn him over to Vicky," Chester piped up, "She'd probably eat him for lunch--not that he'd make much of a meal, but..."  
  
"No way!" Timmy replied quickly, "With my luck, the two of them would join forces and unite against me! Then I'd really be in for it."  
  
"Okay," Chester paused, thinking, "What about his mom?"  
  
"Well, she seems to keep him in check to a certain degree," Timmy considered, "I mean, the worst reaction he's ever had to her is a yelling fit. I've never seen him get violent with her."  
  
"There you have it," AJ grinned, "Get his parental unit involved."  
  
"And if that doesn't work?" Timmy asked.  
  
"Then you call the asylum," Chester answered matter-of-factly. 


	9. You May Be Right

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Nine-- "You May Be Right"  
  
"I wish Crocker would oversleep tomorrow morning," Timmy whispered urgently to Cosmo and Wanda that night when they were finally able to return to the house and breathe fresh air.  
  
"What's the plan, Timmy?" Wanda asked.  
  
"Well, if Crocker oversleeps and is running late tomorrow," Timmy explained, "That will give me enough time to get to school without him and I can get a hold of his mom."  
  
"How?"  
  
"The principal must have her number by now," Timmy replied, "She has caller id in her office. I can just ask her for the number or something and then call Crocker's mom."  
  
"I don't have a good feeling about this, Timmy," Wanda said apprehensively, "But consider the wish granted."  
  
---------------  
  
The next morning, Timmy was up long before Crocker and he hurried in setting his plan in motion as if his life depended on it--which it did. He made sure he caught the bus on time and he made a beeline for the principal's office as soon as he reached the school.  
  
"Ooh, good morning, Timmy," Waxelplax greeted him cheerfully as he cracked the door and peeked in, "Do come in."  
  
"Uh, hi," Timmy forced a smile around his nausea caused by nerves, "Principal Waxelplax...umm...do you have the phone number to Crocker's house?"  
  
"Of course, I do, Timmy," Waxelplax replied, "I have the home phone numbers of all the teachers here."  
  
"Can...I have it?"  
  
"May I ask what for?"  
  
"It's...an emergency," Timmy said urgently after giving thought to his answer.  
  
"All right, here you go," Waxelplax smiled, digging through Crocker's file and pulling out a sheet of paper with his phone number and address--as well as social security number, references, and numbers to call in the likely event of an emergency. Namely a psychotic one.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"I'll be in the teachers' lounge," Waxelplax told him, "Just make sure you close my door when you leave."  
  
Left alone with Crocker's employment files staring up at him from the desk, Timmy almost forgot his mission as he started snooping.  
  
"Man! Crocker's been in trouble so many times on the job," Timmy muttered, "It's a wonder he wasn't fired years ago!"  
  
"Timmy," Wanda said, poofing up in front of him and closing the file folder, "You really should hurry. You wished for Crocker to oversleep, but you didn't specify how long. For all we know, he could be on his way here right now."  
  
"Relax, Wanda," Timmy replied, "Crocker will be in such a frenzy because he's late, he won't know a thing. Besides, I could repeat some of this information to Chester and AJ and they could put it in the school paper, which equals total and complete humiliation for Crocker."  
  
"What sort of information?" Wanda asked, a stern look on her face as Timmy chuckled darkly.  
  
"Like his criminal record," Cosmo answered, snatching the files from Timmy and reading them, snickering the whole time, "Get a load of this! He's been fined for damage to school property sixty-eight times! No wonder the guy's flat broke! Plus he wrecked the principal's car twice--oh-ho! This is a riot!"  
  
"Ha! Between paying fines and buying stuff to make fairy-detecting junk, Crocker doesn't have a financial leg to stand on," Timmy chuckled, snatching the file back.  
  
"Put it away!" Wanda ordered, grabbing the file and stuffing it back into the file cabinet, "Call his mom and get it over with before something really bad happens!"  
  
"All right, all right," Timmy grumbled, "Don't have a cow, Wanda."  
  
"Why can't she have a cow?" Cosmo asked, taking the figure of speech literally, "Cows are so cute! Especially the brown ones! I heard that's where chocolate milk comes from."  
  
Timmy signaled for Cosmo to pipe down as he picked up the phone and dialed Crocker's number.  
  
"I hope she's home," Timmy fretted.  
  
"Well, if she's not, that's your fault," Wanda replied, "You might have caught her if you hadn't been busy snooping through your eccentric teacher's criminal record."  
  
"Hey! Whose side are you on?" Timmy hissed, then fell silent as someone picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Timmy gasped and slammed the phone down in a blink maneuver as it was Mr. Crocker's voice that had come over the line.  
  
"What in the world--? Oh no!" Timmy squeaked, "I accidentally dialed his cell phone! Now we know he's awake."  
  
"And probably on his way here now," Wanda answered, "Hurry, Timmy! Dial his home phone!"  
  
Timmy dialed quickly and was relieved when the shrill, feminine voice of Crocker's mother answered the call.  
  
"Denzel?" she asked hopefully instead of the usual telephone greeting.  
  
"Uh...no," Timmy replied, "I'm one of his students. Is this Mrs. Crocker?"  
  
"Yes, it is."  
  
"Listen, I know you've been wanting to get Denzel to come home," Timmy continued, "If you want to catch him, he's on his way to the school right now."  
  
"Oh, fabulous!" she squealed happily, forcing Timmy to hold the phone away from his ear, "I'll be right there!"  
  
The phone went dead. Timmy hung up and, with a self-satisfied, "mission-accomplished" expression, he left the principal's office and headed for classroom 44. 


	10. One More Night

Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.   
  
Chapter Ten-- "One More Night"  
  
Contrary to Timmy's belief that his teacher would be in a frenzied rush to get to work, Crocker took his time coming to the school. He had big plans for today. It would take a genius to figure out that Timmy Turner had fairy godparents--and he's that genius. He knew he was right. If only he could prove it.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted with an extremely unwanted jolt when his mother stood waiting for him just inside the building. He didn't look at all surprised though. He somehow expected her to show up sooner or later--if she ever got enough sense to figure out where to find him for sure.  
  
"Mother, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice monotonous and indifferent, but each word clipped so one would get the idea he was not pleased to see her.  
  
"I've come to take you home," she replied, "Or to the mental institution--if it comes down to it."  
  
"You can't take me anywhere!" Crocker snapped, abandoning self-control much earlier in the argument than before, "I don't need you--or anyone else for that matter! So you can take your motherly, uh...motherliness and...shove it up your nose!"  
  
"Why I never!"  
  
"That makes two of us," Crocker hissed, getting in her face, then turning on his heel to step around her and head to his classroom. He had no clue his mother was following him until...  
  
"All right," she continued, "If you don't want to come home, I won't make you."  
  
"What?!" Timmy exploded, horrified at this unexpected turn of events, "No! You--you have to make him! You don't understand what's going on here! Your son is living--"  
  
"The life of Reilly!" Crocker interrupted, clapping a hand over Timmy's mouth.  
  
"As long as you're happy," his mother sniffled sadly, "That's all that matters to me. I love you, Denzel..."  
  
Crocker was oblivious to the fact that his mouth was hanging open in shock. He almost felt compelled to go after her as she turned and left, but he stopped himself and made a conscious effort to fight off the shock and retain his bitter, callous demeanor.  
  
"Back to your desk, Turner!" he barked, dropping Timmy on the floor and violently pointing toward the said location, "We have tests to do and I don't have all day!"  
  
---------------  
  
That night, lying wide awake on the roll-away bed in the Turner's living room, Crocker was ridden with guilt. Yes, the man had a conscience and he desperately wished he didn't. He had already pieced together Timmy's involvement in his mother's showing up at the school and how he would love to strangle that little meddling brat, but the big question still remained. Could he withstand the guilt and perhaps rise above it and go on with his life?  
  
Upstairs, Timmy was still awake as well. He wasn't feeling guilty though. He was frustrated. His attempt at getting Crocker out of his home life had failed. He was surprised Crocker hadn't presented a big fat "Super F" to him for his efforts--not that he wanted one.  
  
Meanwhile, Crocker finally managed to doze off, but his vague dreams were haunted by his mother. He hated to admit it, but she did try her best. She was probably the only person who'd remained consistent throughout his entire life. Everyone else had changed--turned against him, mocked him, betrayed him--but not his mother. True, she'd had her faults and she hadn't been there for him during his childhood, but the few times she was around, she was always the same.  
  
It was then and there that a heavy realization hit Crocker like a ton of bricks--he needed his mother. As much as he hated to admit it, she was the only secure, unchanging figure in his life and--with the mental and emotional afflictions he suffered--he desperately needed that sense of security...even if the giver of the security proved to be a royal pain in the neck ninety percent of the time. At last, his mind was made up.  
  
---------------  
  
After pondering things half the night, Timmy had come up with an ultimatum which he intended to present to Crocker the following morning. He'd decided that he might be able to scare Crocker out with a threat. If he didn't go home, Timmy would call the asylum on him and have him degraded and hauled off in a straitjacket to spend an extended period of time in solitary confinement in a padded room.  
  
The next morning, he marched down the stairs to confront his crazy teacher, but he was completely caught off guard when Crocker beat him to the punch.  
  
"Good morning, Turner," he said, sarcasm dripping from his insincere greeting, "Before you cower before me and whimper and whine simply because I am capable of intimidating you, I have something to say: I'm leaving!"  
  
Timmy was knocked off balance when Crocker snapped the final words in his face, hard enough to give him a bad hair day.  
  
"I'm sick to death of sleeping on that rock that dares to call itself a bed!" he continued, lying through his teeth as the roll-away bed was actually more tolerable than his own rickety, sagging mattress at home, "I'm sick of the incessant stupidity of your parents! I'm sick of the bathroom smelling like raw sewage every time your father comes out of it! I'm sick of--"  
  
"Everything?" Timmy suggested hesitantly.  
  
"In a word--yes!" Crocker barked, "So I'll be leaving now. It's been real, it's been fun, but it ain't been real fun. I'll see you at school. Good day."  
  
With that, Crocker took his belongings and stomped out the door, being sure to slam it on the way out. Timmy stood in complete shock for a few fleeting moments before he burst into wild cheering and hysterical laughter--which Cosmo and Wanda were happy to join in on.  
  
---------------  
  
"Denzel?" Crocker's mother looked astonished when she found her son standing on her doorstep.  
  
"Mother, I just want to say that...I'm...s--" Crocker grimaced as the apology was already more difficult than he'd anticipated. He couldn't remember the last time he apologized to anyone--much less his mother.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I just want to tell you that...I'm very...sor--sor--"  
  
"Sorry?" she asked hopefully, trying to help him finish the sentence without hurting himself.  
  
"Yes," Crocker muttered peevishly, having a pretty good idea of the events that would follow that confession.  
  
"Ah, the prodigal has returned!" his mother exclaimed, flinging her arms around him and causing his spine to crunch loudly, "Now will you help Mommy with her dresses?"  
  
Crocker seethed inwardly. He'd fully expected that, but he was hoping against hope that it wouldn't happen. Of course, Murphy's Law is the story of his life. Swallowing his pride--and nearly choking on it--he heaved a sigh of resignation.  
  
"Do I really have a choice?"  
  
---The End--- 


End file.
